


Not Walk Out the River

by dharmaavocado



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Implied Past Relationships, Implied Past Violence, Post-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23727424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dharmaavocado/pseuds/dharmaavocado
Summary: “Karga and I have an agreement.  He clears my name, I help you out, and then I come back and play muscle.  Help rebuild the guild.  Besides,” Cara added when he hesitated, “the old man doesn’t like visitors.  You need an in.”“And that’s you?”She spread her arms.  “That’s me.”In which answers are sought and Cara goes home.
Relationships: Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Kes Dameron & Cara Dune, Shara Bey/Cara Dune, Shara Bey/Kes Dameron
Comments: 23
Kudos: 166





	Not Walk Out the River

**Author's Note:**

> Titles taken from the Mike Doughty song _Grey Ghost_
> 
> This takes place post season one of The Mandalorian. Minor spoilers for the series. I also take liberties with Cara's backstory.
> 
> Big thanks to both norcumi and jnyx for looking this over in various stages and assuring me it was worth finishing.

The guild loved its damn contracts, the more complicated the better, and by the time Cara and Karga were satisfied enough with the final draft, Djarin was stacking stones on Kuiil’s grave. She borrowed a speeder bike and didn’t bother hiding her approach. Djarin must have clocked her given she didn’t end up with a blaster bolt to the head. 

She came to a stop a good distance from the grave. The way she figured it it was that the dead had no need of respect, but she’d done more than her share of burying friends to know the living did. 

“Mando,” she said, abandoning the bike for Karga to collect later. 

He paused in his work, surprised. She was getting better at reading him. 

“You know my name,” he said. “You should use it.” 

“Don’t go getting familiar with me.” She picked a rock to place on the grave. It would keep the local wildlife away for awhile, but the bastards were persistent and sooner or later something would dig down. “I’d hate to have let you down easy.” 

Djarin’s helmet was blank, but there was a thread of what might be amusement in the way he tilted his head. It was gone as soon as it arrived, and somberly they finished their work, Kuiil’s goggles set atop the grave, the only headstone the old Ugnaught would get. She didn’t kid herself in thinking Kuill would appreciate Djarin’s work. This was for the benefit of the living, after all. The dead got no say in it. 

The kid watched from his pram, ears pricked forward and gaze tracking their movements. 

“What’s the easy way if you were to let me down?” Djarin asked. 

She pushed the hair from her face. “I’d tell you to piss off.” 

That head tilt again. “And the hard way?” 

“I’d hit you in the head.” 

Yeah, he was definitely amused. “You already did that.” 

“Then you should take the hint.” She followed him back to _The Razor Crest_ , the pram obediently bobbing along beside him. Djarin laid his hand along the edge, and the kid reached out. Cara fell back, hand at her throat, but the kid just held on to Djarin’s fingers. It would’ve been cute, if she didn’t know what the kid could do. 

“Why are you here?” Djarin asked. 

“Your clan head.” The line of his shoulders tensed, and she corrected herself, “The armorer. She said you’re the kid’s father until you can find his people.” 

There was a long pause as Djarin looked down at the kid, who gazed up, trusting. “By creed, yes. This is the way.” 

“I may be able to help.” 

That was definitely surprise. “You know his species?” 

“No fucking idea what he is,” she said, aware of his disapproval at her language. Tough. Kid had to learn to properly swear from someone, and it was practically her duty. “But some of the old guard may know. Troopers.” 

She wondered if he was aware of the way his hand went to his blaster. Probably, as he was not a man given to wasted movement. 

“The Empire wants him,” he said slowly as if she was an idiot who hadn’t nearly died because of that. 

“Did I say the Imps? _Troopers.”_

That got through to him; he went quiet. Cara was content to wait him out. Many soldiers were like him, made of depths and pitfalls they were constantly circling. She had her own, and so did he. 

It was impossible to know how old he was under that helmet, and voice wasn’t an accurate predictor, not if he was using a vocoder. Could be around her age; old enough then to remember the Clone Wars. Maybe even ran across a member of the old guard at some point. Hard to tell. 

“And they might know?” he finally asked. 

She shrugged. “I figure they’re your best chance to get a lead, if you want one. I can make an introduction.” 

Another pause. “I thought you were staying here with Karga.” 

“Don’t think I’m playing nanny for you. No offense, kid.” The child just gazed back, placid. It was unsettling, how quiet he was. She had cousins once, and they had been absolute hellions. Only quiet when they were asleep, but even then they kicked and thrashed until they woke themselves up. “Karga and I have an agreement. He clears my name, I help you out, and then I come back and play muscle. Help rebuild the guild. Besides,” she added when he hesitated, “the old man doesn’t like visitors. You need an in.” 

“And that’s you?” 

She spread her arms. “That’s me.” 

The kid glanced between them, cooing a little, and Djarin’s shoulders curved slightly inward. “I’d appreciate the help.” 

“Yeah, thought you might.” An angle to his head suggested he was glaring at her, and so she grinned, and said, “After you.” 

_The Razor Crest_ didn’t require a lot of flight prep, and she sat in the co-pilot’s chair as Djarin took them off planet. In the pram, the kid watched in avid fascination, gumming a necklace. It looked to be a choking hazard, but Djarin seemed unconcerned, and she’d be damned before offering parental advice. Serve him right if the kid did choke on it. 

Djarin turned to the navigation panel. “Care to tell me where we’re going?” 

“I was waiting for you to ask.” She looked out over the stars and said, “You know Yavin IV?” 

“I’ve heard of it.” There was a hint of irony to the words. 

“Well, that’s where we’re going.” 

He snorted but punched in the coordinates. The ship shuddered as the hyperdrive engine kicked in, and then they were gone. 

* * *

The kid was playing a game Cara had gathered was called Stop Touching Those Buttons I’m Serious Don’t You Do It, the rules of which consisted of him staring Djarin dead in the eyes and touching whatever button he damn well pleased. Cara had, not entirely against her will, taken on the role of adjudicator and kept pointing out other buttons for the kid to push. 

“Stop encouraging him,” Djarin snapped, finally snagging the kid by the back of his robe and depositing him in the pram much like a mother loth cat collecting a disobedient kitten. 

“It’s a long flight and you have no holovids. Gotta find something to pass the time.” 

“We’re a week out from Yavin,” he said. “Find something else. Both of you.” 

The kid whined, and, without looking at her, Djarin unscrewed the knob from the end of the throttle, passing it over to the kid to chew on. 

“Nice parenting,” she said dryly. “You ever gonna give the kid a name?” 

“Haven’t thought about it,” he said in such an offhand manner that meant he was lying. 

“Kids need names. 

Djarin turned towards her, assessing her, maybe. All she could see was her own reflection in his visor, and Cara had seen enough of herself to last even an Ugnaught’s lifetime. 

“Are names important to your people?” he asked. 

“You mean to us lucky enough to have survived?” She shrugged and turned her gaze back to the viewport and the stars streaking by. 

Everyone knew about Alderaan. Even those krill farmers on the backwater skugg hole knew about Alderaan. The widow even asked her it if it was true, if the Empire had devoured an entire planet. There was a reason Cara didn’t let on she was one of the few who made it, and the inevitable pity was only part of it. 

“No more than most,” she said. “But names tell us where we come from and where we’re going. Thought you of everyone would understand that.” 

“I do,” he said, and turned to where the kid was rolling the knob between his two small hands. “I’ll think on it.” 

“You do that,” she said, amused. 

“Where are we going on Yavin?” he asked abruptly, almost as if he was embarrassed. Adorable. 

“There’s a colony on the equator,” she answered, swinging her feet up on the panel and ignoring what she imagined was a pointed glare. “Mostly rebels who mustered out, but it has its share of civilians. I got a friend there, fellow shock trooper. He left before me, right after Endor. 

“And he’s fine with putting us up?” 

“Kes takes any opportunity to show off his wife and kid.” Cara hadn’t met anyone quite as enamored with their spouse as Kes, and she went on more than one drop with Solo. “He probably has old clothes for your kid.” 

They both turned to look at the kid’s strange robe. The kid blinked back, each one longer than the last. He yawned, tongue curling like a loth cat. 

“You should go put him down,” she said, and eyed the line of Djarin’s shoulder. “You need sleep, too. I’ll take this shift.” 

“Do you know how to fly?” he asked. 

“I know the basics.” The silence was pointed, and she sighed and swung her feet off the panel. “Just put it on autopilot. I’ll come get you if anything goes wrong.” When he hesitated, she added, “You almost died today. Go get some rack time, and take off that helmet before you develop a rash.” 

After checking that the kid had nodded off, he made a very rude gesture. “Don’t touch anything unless necessary.” She waved off his concern as he carefully picked up the kid, cradling him nearly tenderly against his chest. “Are you all right?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” she said, “I'm fine.” Djarin hesitated for another moment, and she couldn’t tell what his face was doing under the bucket. Pity, maybe. She scowled. “Fuck off, Mando.” 

He snorted and obligingly fucked off. She listened to the sounds of him moving around below, probably tucking the kid into bed while in full armor. She smiled at the image. 

There was the sound of running water. He must have removed his helmet by now. She didn’t bother trying to picture what he looked like underneath. If he took it off in front of any living creature he would never be able to put it back on again. Didn’t seem that much of a punishment, but then that wasn’t her way. 

When she was young, her mother had taught her the various braids every good Alderaan girl should know. She hadn’t the patience for it, confusing the wedding braid with the courting braid with the mourning braid with the—hell, she couldn’t remember most of them now. Never cared for long hair or the way it fell along the back of her neck. She used to twist it into terrible snarls until her mother gave in and let her cut it, too short to wear any braid even if she wanted to. 

There had been a girl on that backwater skugg hole, who may not have been the beautiful widow but was beautiful all the same, and she hadn’t been shy about expressing admiration of Cara’s muscles. Cara had taken her to bed because beautiful girls should be enjoyed. 

“I like your hair,” the girl said, fingers buried in the longer strands. 

“Thanks,” said Cara, rather busy between the girl’s thighs. When she went to work the girl twisted and pulled, and if she still been on Alderaan then in the morning Cara would have done both their hair in the appropriate braids so everyone would know what they were to each other. But she wasn’t and they weren’t anything, and so she kissed the girl before she’d gone. 

Djarin murmured something from below, too soft for her to follow, but his voice took on a steady rolling cadence. A bedtime story, she realized, and didn’t bother fighting back a smile. Fucking adorable. 

She waited until his voice trailed off, and then waited longer to be sure he and the kid were asleep before pulling her comm from her belt. She switched to voice only, and when the connection finally established said, “You still awake, Dameron? I’m impressed.” 

“You still alive, Dune?” Kes retorted. “And keep it down. We finally got Poe to sleep.” 

“How’s the kid?” she asked. 

“Begging Shara to take him flying,” Kes answered, voice gone all tender. “Can’t keep his feet on the ground.” 

That wasn’t a surprise. Even as a baby, Poe had, with his curls and dark eyes, taken after his mother. “Maybe the next one will be a trooper,” she said. 

“Maybe. What do you need?” 

She kicked her feet back up on the console, but it wasn’t nearly as satisfying without Djarin’s disapproval. “How’s the old man?” 

“Good, all things considered. Why?” 

“I think he has some intel that might be useful. It’s all above board. Don’t worry.” 

She listened to Kes sigh and then the sound of a door opening and closing. Kes always did his best thinking under an open sky. “You still in trouble, Cara?” 

“Not right now. Got my name cleared. And you know I wouldn’t be coming around if I was.” 

It was one of the reasons why, apart from the respect for the life he and Shara were building, she’d kept her distance after mustering out. Well, that and she was no good at settling, never had been, even before Alderaan was lost, and definitely not since. 

“You’re always welcome here. You know that.” 

She closed her eyes. “I know.” 

The quiet lapped between them, comfortable and familiar. How many times did she and Kes do this, sit together in the aftermath of a drop? Too many for her to count. 

“You still got Poe’s baby clothes?” 

Kes sucked in a breath. “Do you have _a baby?”_

“You don’t have to sound so scandalized. Not mine.” 

“Well, thank fuck. Who would give you a kid?” 

“You, for one.” 

Kes made an affronted noise. “Asking if you want to hold my son doesn’t count as giving you a kid.” 

“You keep telling yourself that.” 

Before he could retort, there came the sound of the door opening, and then Shara said, “Is that Cara?” 

“Hey, Shara,” Cara said. 

Shara’s voice was suddenly much louder, as if she had snatched the comm from Kes. “Goddamn, girl, where’ve you been?” 

“Acquiring a kid, apparently,” Kes said. 

“Again, not mine. The kid belongs to…” she paused, but she and Djarin had faced down an AT-ST and then a whole squadron of Imps. All her relationships, the ones that lasted, had been forged through blaster fire. “A friend. You mind putting us up for a few days?” 

“You know you don’t have to ask,” Shara said. “How far are out are you?” 

“A week. Less if we keep to the secure hyperspace lanes.” She cleared her throat. “It’ll be good to see you again.” 

“You, too,” Shara said. 

“We’ll keep the light on for you,” said Kes. 

“I’ll look for it,” Cara said, and ended the call before they all gave in to the urge to get maudlin. She lowered the light in the cabin and sat in the dark, her body aching from the long day, a reminder she hadn’t gotten herself killed. Not yet. 

There was a rustle of cloth, and she glanced down to the kid staring up at her, both arms raised. 

“Thought you’d be with your dad,” she said, but leaned over to carefully pick him up, aware of how small he was, nearly dwarfed by her hands. He squirmed his way onto her lap, twisting until he tucked himself in, head pillowed against her stomach and his small hands holding her arm around him. “Make yourself comfortable.” 

He cooed up at her, eyes and ears drooping. Carefully, she ran a thumb along the edge of his right ear, watching as it twitched slightly. She didn’t see the appeal for herself, but she understood what drove Kes and Shara and Djarin to do what they did. 

“Go to sleep, kid,” she said, and listened to the quiet sound of his breathing as outside in the black the stars continued on their way. 

* * *

Almost right up until the end, the Alliance had done more running than fighting, and Cara spent enough time aboard various ships to know most hyperspace travel consisted of fuck all happening. It hadn’t been so bad on a cruiser where there was space for her to stretch her legs, but _The Razor Crest_ was barely bigger than a tin can and they were constantly tripping over one another. On the fourth day when the kid invented a new game called, as best as she could figure, Lifting Up Random Shit In The Hold And Letting It Drop To Make My Dad Jump, she said, “I think we need to refuel.” 

Djarin seemed poised to argue right up until another resounding crash reached them, and then he silently input the coordinates for a port that mostly served long haul freighters. It was respectable enough, and while they waited for the ship to be serviced, they found a cantina that was clean and did a decent bone broth. 

There was a Zabrak with beautiful curling horns tending bar, and so Cara abandoned Djarin and the kid to chat her up. She was definitely working her way in and was looking forward to finding out if horns would make as good a handhold as they looked, when Djarin said, “We’re leaving.” 

“Next time,” she told the Zabrak, adding a wink for good measure. 

She followed Djarin back out into the port. The kid was balanced on Djarin’s hip, looking around with wide, interested eyes. Poor thing spent most of his time hidden away on _The Razor Crest_. It wasn’t right; kids needed open air to run and play and be little shits. Kid deserved better. Hell, they all did. 

“You know what the difference is between you and me?” she asked as Djarin paid for the fuel and an extra ration of water to be added to the reserves. 

“Many things,” he answered. The kid squirmed and Djarin set him down so he could toddle onto the ship under his own power. “But I’m guessing you have something specific in mind.” 

“Unlike you, I’m of the opinion beautiful women should be appreciated and enjoyed.” 

He closed and locked down the hatch. “We’re on a schedule. We didn’t have time for you to enjoy her.” 

“That’s where you’re wrong. There’s always time to enjoy a pretty lady.” 

Djarin’s head tipped to the side and he said, amused, “I’ll take that under consideration.” 

She patted his bucket where his cheek would be. “You do that. Now get a move on. We gotta keep to that schedule.” 

* * *

It was another two days before they made it to the Gordian Reach sector, dropping out of hyperspace outside of Yavin’s orbit. Yavin IV was home to old rebels who were a jumpy lot and didn’t appreciate any ship coming in unannounced. 

“Hey, kid,” Cara said, craning around in her seat. “Come here. You should see this.” 

The kid’s ears pricked forward in interest, and he held his arms out, letting her scoop him out of the pram. She balanced him on her knee so that he could see out the porthole as Yavin came into view. It wasn’t any different from thousands of other planets scattered throughout the three Rims, but it was important. It was her home, as much as anywhere could be, this nearly forgotten moon where good men and women died, the place where they turned back the Empire. 

“Were you here?” Djarin asked, a quiet respect to the question. 

“I was,” Cara said. “Wasn’t much help when they made the run on the Death Star, but I’d been on Scarif. Lost most of my company on that beach, and barely made it out on the evac when the Imps fired on it. Earned my stripes there.” Yavin turned gently under them, and she said, “This is where I found out about Alderaan.” 

She had still been covered in the ash of Scarif as she shoved a fist into her mouth to muffle the scream. Grief wasn’t useful, but anger was, and she’d fed it through the long years that followed. Fed it even now. 

Djarin reached across and closed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s good for him to see this.” 

She blinked hard and said, “Contact the port. Let them know we’re incoming.” 

Djarin did as she said, but one of the instruments beeped, and his hands tightened on the throttle. “There’s a ship approaching.” 

Cara shifted the kid on her lap as she leaned over to look at the radar. Appeared to be a single A-Wing coming in at a good clip. She sighed. “Relax. It’s just Shara.” 

Sure enough, the A-Wing swooped into view, so close that Djarin cursed and cut their speed so quickly that Cara’s head knocked into the seat. 

“I said fucking relax,” she snapped. “She’s not gonna ram us. She’s showing off.” 

As if on cue, Shara gave a wing waggle. 

Rolling her eyes, Cara shoved the kid at Djarin. She opened the comm and said, “Fuck off, Bey.” 

Shara laughed, but it was Poe who said, “Cara! We missed you!” 

“Missed you, too, kid,” she said. “I’ll see you dirtside.” 

She cut the connection before Shara could get in the last word. 

“Nice welcoming party,” Djarin said mildly. 

She smiled. “It’s about to get better.” 

* * *

Kes was waiting when they landed, Djarin setting _The Razor Crest_ neatly in the spot control assigned to them. The port was staffed by old Alliance flight crew, and Cara traded affectionate insults over the comms until the kid, under Djarin’s guidance, cut the connection. 

“Well, well, well,” Kes said, leaning against the side of his speeder as they disembarked, “look who finally dragged her sorry ass home again.” 

“This sorry ass is still prettier than you,” she shot back. “It’s why your wife likes me better.” 

Kes snorted but didn’t argue. They clasped forearms and Kes pulled her into a hug, his hand warm and welcome on the back of her neck. She fisted the back of his shirt, just over where a scar from a blaster bolt that had nearly laid him out in the waning days of the war. She’d ended up dragging him through the jungle back to their line, alternately cursing and begging him to stay with her. 

“It’s good to see you,” Kes said, mouth near her ear. “I missed you.” 

“Yeah,” she said, swallowing. “Missed you, too, Dameron.” They separated slowly, and she brushed the hair from her face. 

“Shara will meet us at the house,” he said, although she hadn’t asked. “Took her old A-Wing up.” 

“She did a flyby,” she said, and Kes rolled his eyes. “Poe was with her.” 

“Can’t keep him on the ground short of nailing his feet down. Definitely his mother’s son.” There was a vein of rueful resignation shot through all that fondness, like he could already see where that would take Poe, which was far away. 

“He’s a good kid.” Poe was young but Cara got the feeling he was like her, the itch to run and keep running planted deep. 

Kes nodded, his gaze tracking behind her shoulder where Djarin was patiently waiting, hands loose at his side and the kid half hidden behind his legs. “This your friend?” 

“It is,” she said, and offered no more; Djarin allowed her the use of his name, not Kes. 

The kid peered curiously out, and she could see the exact moment Kes, hardened pathfinder that he was, melted. She’d have to apologize to Shara when Kes inevitably started talk about trying for another baby. 

“Hey there,” Kes said softly, crouching down to put himself closer to the kid’s level. “Your son?” 

“Yes,” Djarin said. 

“What’s his name?” 

When Djarin hesitated, Cara said, “Still working on that. I think he looks like a Cal.” 

“No,” Djarin said flatly. 

The kid edged out further, letting Kes get a good look, and it was probably only Djarin’s pointed silence that kept Kes from scooping him up. “He might be too small even for Poe’s baby clothes,” Kes said lightly, making a funny face for the kid to coo over. “We’ll set you up.” 

“That’s not necess—” 

“Say thank you,” she said. 

Djarin sighed. “Thank you.” 

“It’s no problem.” Kes winced as he stood. His hip never did heal right. “Shara’s probably waiting for us, and you know how impatient she gets.” 

Cara knew. While Djarin gathered his kid, she took the front seat of the speeder, head tipped back when the wind kicked up, heavy with the promise of rain. 

* * *

Shara was waiting for them, her A-Wing settled down not far from the house. Poe was perched on the wing, which was the only reason he wasn’t rushing her. Cara hopped out of the speeder before Kes fully brought it to a stop. 

“Ca-ra Dune,” Shara sang out. 

“Shar-a Bey,” she answered, matching Shara’s cadence. “You still with this washed out trooper?” 

“Only until you get serious,” Shara replied, and then they were close enough to embrace. Shara held her hard and fast, hand teasing the hair at the nap of her neck. “You stayed away too long.” 

Cara didn’t apologize, and Shara wouldn’t let her anyway. Instead she just turned her head enough so that Shara could kiss her, light and sweet, the kind of kiss that said a lot, and no one had ever accused Shara Bey of being the shy and retiring type. 

“Good to see you,” Cara said when they parted, aware of Djarin’s stare, but he had his way and she had hers. Let him figure it out. 

“Cara!” Poe cried, flinging himself at her. 

She caught him, swinging him up enough to affectionately knock their heads together. “Hey, Dameron. I hear you’re gonna be a pilot.” 

He grinned as she set him back on his feet, so obviously Shara’s son. “I'm gonna be the best!” 

“One day,” Shara said. “One day the best.” Like Kes before her, her attention shifted to Djarin and the kid. Her eyebrows rose. “Your friend?” 

“My friend,” she said. 

Djarin’s helmet didn’t move, but she got the feeling he was sizing up Kes and Shara. Probably already clocked them as threats, if need be. Mustering out didn’t do anything to dull their skills. 

“Djarin,” he finally offered, and Cara couldn’t quite suppress the surprise. 

“Well, Djarin,” Kes said, “if Cara’s dragged you here then you are definitely in need of help.” 

“Fu—piss off,” she said, glancing at Poe. “You gonna feed us?” 

“Always so good to have you,” Shara said, herding Poe to the house. 

“Yeah,” Cara said, following, “you’re very lucky we’re here.” 

* * *

“And Cara here,” Kes said, pointing at her, “says ‘Where would I even hide your bike?’” 

“Hey, it was a fair question,” Cara said. 

“Is this when it fell out of the tree?” said Shara, who knew the story and was already laughing. 

“And that’s when it fell out of the tree,” Kes said. “And this nervy shit just looks Draven in the fucking eye and says—” 

“‘It was in the tree,’” Djarin said, head tipped back just enough to reveal a scandalous slice of throat. 

“It was in the fucking tree,” Kes confirmed. “She tell you this already?” 

“No,” Djarin said, a sly note to his voice that suggested he was sliding her a look. “It just seems like something she would say.” 

“I think he’s got your number,” Shara said. 

Cara lifted her glass to Djarin in acknowledgement and let the hand on Shara’s knee slide up higher. 

The dishes from their meal were still scattered on the table, although Djarin had taken his plate and retreated to the guest room to eat his dinner. Kes and Shara hadn’t even blinked when she explained; they’d all met stranger in the army. After they put the kids to bed, Poe and the child sleeping together because Poe had taken one look at him and staked his claim, Kes had dug out a bottle of the good wine he picked up back on Mon Calamari, and Shara had pulled out an elaborate curly straw and dropped it in Djarin’s glass. 

“We usually use it to bribe Poe into drinking his milk,” she’d said, “but I thought you might appreciate it as well.” She had tapped his bucket, which Djarin bore with good grace. That was something Cara never understood, how easily Shara got people to drop their guard. 

“Now that the reminiscing is done,” Kes said, nudging his foot against Cara’s ankle, “want to tell us why you need to see the old man?” 

Cara finished her wine. “He’s looking for the kid’s people. I figured if anyone would know, it’d be him.” 

Kes scrubbed a hand over his face. “I know I’m going to regret this, but why do you figure that?” 

She looked to Djarin. His mess, his explanation. He gave a brief rundown of to the whole sorry affair: the kid, the AT-ST that brought them together, the guild, his culvert, Moff fucking Gideon. 

“Moff fucking Gideon,” Shara said when Djarin finished. She slung back the rest of the wine and shoved the glass at Kes, who reflexively refilled it. “Thought he was executed for war crimes.” 

“So did I,” Cara said, waving away Kes’ offer to do the same for her; never developed the taste for wine. She’d take rotgut any day over this shit. Less pretentious. 

“And the kid?” Kes topped up Djarin’s glass so the straw floated dangerously close to the rim. 

“He can do things,” Cara said, glancing at Djarin. “Like how you said Skywalker could.” 

Shara sighed. “You never do things by half, do you?” 

She squeezed Shara’s thigh. “Isn’t that why you like me?” 

“I mostly like you for your mouth.” 

Cara could see the slightest movement of Djarin’s helmet as he looked towards Kes. 

“We’re well aware of your feelings for Cara’s mouth,” Kes said fondly. “So you think the old man knows what the kid is and where to find more like him?” 

“He’s our best bet.” She could practically feel Djarin’s glare, and so she said, “The old man is General Cody, one of the last of the old guard.” 

“And he’s willing to see us?” Djarin asked. 

Kes snorted. “Willing might not be the best word, but Numa decided for him. I’ll take you over in the morning.” 

“Thank you,” Djarin said, head tipped just enough to the side Cara could read the sincerity to the words. “I appreciate your kindness.” 

“It’s nothing,” Kes said. “It’s not often Cara makes friends.” 

“Fuck off,” she said, kicking him under the table. Kes kicked back. 

Djarin stood, taking himself out of range. “It’s been a long trip, and I'm tired. I’ll see myself to bed. I remember the way,” he added when Kes made to show him to the spare room. 

“Good night,” Shara said, and Djarin nodded at her and made his exit. 

When he was gone, Kes said, “You always did pick the weird ones.” 

Cara shrugged. “Isn’t that how I ended up with you?” 

“You know,” Shara said before she and Kes could settle into their familiar bickering, “we only have the one spare room, and your friend is using it.” 

“That does present a problem.” Shara’s legs fell open, and Cara slid her hand to Shara’s inseam. “I don’t suppose you have an idea of where I can bunk down?” 

“I suppose our bed can fit you,” Shara said, and Cara kissed her, slow and indulgent. 

Kes nudged her ankle, and Cara came up for air. “We keep telling you,” he said, “you’re always welcome here.” 

“I know,” she said; that was never the problem. “You want to welcome me properly?” 

Shara laughed, and she pulled Cara’s hand from where it slipped even higher up her inner thigh. “Your lines are worse than Kes’.” 

“Lies,” Kes said, standing and offering a hand to each of them. He pulled them to his feet. “Our lines worked on you.” 

“Only because I felt sorry for you.” Shara tugged them both along. “Now prove to me that you’re worth it.” 

Cara shared a long suffering look with Kes even as they obediently. They never could deny her anything, but Shara was always worth it. 

In the bedroom, door locked and sound dampeners activated, they undressed and fell into the familiar pattern developed from the years in the army. God, she missed them. 

Shara settled back on the bed, hair twisted up and out of the way, and beckoned for her and Kes to join her. Cara glanced to Kes, who said magnanimously, “Guests get the first privilege.” 

“I don’t remember you being this hospitable,” she said, one knee on the bed. 

“You trying to talk me out of it?” 

Shara drew the edge of her thumb along her sternum. 

“Of course not,” Cara said. “I just don’t want to intrude.” 

Shara rolled her eyes. “For fuck’s sake, one of you get over here and give me an orgasm sometime tonight.” 

“Pushy,” Cara said. 

“You like it,” Shara said on a sigh as Cara settled in to prove why Shara loved her mouth. 

“We do,” said Kes. 

And then, under Kes’ fond gaze and with Shara winding a hand along the hair at the nape of her neck, Cara let herself be properly welcomed home. 

* * *

Both Shara and Kes were gone from the bed—Shara to her job as a contract pilot and Kes to deal with Poe— when Cara, not above taking advantage of the well dug out back that fed the house with fresh water, finished showering. It was a goddamn relief after the glitchy sonics on _The Razor Crest_

Djarin was in the kitchen, which was clear of the dishes they’d forgotten in the rush to the bedroom. Apparently Djarin had a domestic streak in him. 

“Morning,” she said. A mug was set out on the counter next to a fresh pot of caf. Bless Kes Dameron’s own domestic streak. She dumped some sugar in, a bad habit picked up from the army she never bothered to shed. “You eat already?” 

“Yes,” Djarin said. Judging by the cant of his bucket he was looking out at the tree, which had been a gift from Skywalker. Cara didn’t believe the tree had any special properties, despite Shara’s claims, but what did she know? She never met Skywalker, at least not properly. “Your friend was kind enough to send a tray to my room.” 

Delivered by Poe, if she had to guess. “Yeah, he’s a giver.” 

Djarin’s head swung towards her. “If beautiful women are to appreciated and enjoyed—” 

“They are.” 

“—then what does that mean for the husbands of the beautiful women?” 

She took an obnoxious sip of caf. “What makes you think the husbands aren’t part of the appreciation?” 

And hey, what do you know, Djarin was capable of laughter after all. 

“Do I want to know what’s so funny?” Kes asked. He had a kid balanced on each hip. 

“No.” She stared at the child. “What did you do?” 

“Turns out some of Poe’s old baby clothes do fit him,” Kes said cheerfully as if the kid wasn’t decked out in flight suit orange pants. There were loth cats in hats on the shirt. 

“Poe,” she said seriously, “I’m so sorry your parents did that to you as a baby.” 

“I like orange,” Poe said. 

“I know, buddy,” Kes said, sharing a look with her. She wondered how long Shara could hold out before giving Poe her old A-Wing. Kes would insist on waiting until Poe turned sixteen, but Cara put credits on fourteen if Poe showed even the slightest aptitude for flying. “You ready to go?” 

Cara finished the rest of her caf, only burning her tongue a little. Worth it. Kes always had a nose for the good stuff. 

Djarin took the kid, hideous clothes and all, and said, “Let’s go.” 

* * *

The general’s place, much like everything else in the colony, was pre-fabricated and sat at the edge of the residential sector. Kes made them walk as it wasn’t that far, at least not if you had adult legs. By the time they reached the gate, both Poe and the kid had to be carried. Cara hitched Poe up on her shoulders, listening intently as he explained who lived in every house they passed. 

“And this,” Poe said, “is where Cody and Numa li—Numa!” 

Cara bit back a curse as Poe, in his enthusiasm to get to Numa, nearly fell straight on his head. Kes casually reached out and caught his son, turning him upright before setting him on his feet. 

“We talked about this, buddy,” he said. 

“Sorry, dad.” Poe didn’t even pause in his mad sprint to Numa, who was waiting at the gate. “Hi, Numa Bril.” 

“Hello, Poe Dameron,” Numa replied. Judging by the smiles they shared this was their own special greeting. Goddamn adorable. Numa glanced over. “Cara.” 

“Numa.” She caught the way the end of Numa’s lekku curled. “You’re looking very well.” 

“Glad to see you’re alive,” Numa replied, smile sliding towards something that was decidedly not child friendly. 

Djarin’s head moved slightly as he glanced between them. Cara ignored him. 

“All right,” Kes said loudly. “I’ve delivered them. My part’s done.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you did good,” Numa said. “You off to school?” 

Poe nodded. “We’re doing more letters today.” He made a face. 

“Letters are important,” Numa said. “Especially if you want to be a pilot like your mom.” 

Poe didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t protest as Kes led him off, even turning back to wave goodbye to the kid, who lifted a hand in response. 

When they were gone, Numa said, “I’m assuming your son is the reason for this visit.” 

“He is,” Djarin said. 

Numa studied him, and the kid’s ears pricked up. He liked attention, though Cara thought he’d had enough of it the past few months. 

“You bringing trouble?” Numa asked. 

“Probably,” Cara said. “The Imps want the kid.” 

“I’ll let the boys know to keep an eye out.” She abruptly turned to the house. “You might as well come in. He’s in a good mood.” 

“Pretty sure the old man is never in a good mood.” She and Djarin followed Numa up the path to the door. A sentry turret clicked as it tracked their progression; the old man was still a paranoid bastard. 

“An ambivalent mood, then.” Numa punched in the entry code and stepped inside. 

Cara followed, aware of Djarin’s hesitation. “I wouldn’t bring you here if I thought the kid was in danger,” she said softly. 

“I know,” Djarin said, and set the kid down to toddle in under his own power. 

It was dim inside, the lights on low and most of the windows shuttered. Numa made an annoyed noise and paused at a control panel long enough to open each and every shutter, flooding the house with light. 

“Goddamnit, Numa!” 

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Numa said, and led them to the small kitchen where the High General of the Alliance was angrily knuckling one eye. “Our guests have arrived.” 

Cody turned a baleful glare on her. “I don’t remember agreeing to guests.” 

“I agreed for you,” she said cheerfully. “Be a good host and make some caf.” 

“I’m not Boil,” Cody said. “You can’t bully me into seeing anyone.” 

“Can and have. You remember Cara Dune. Boil used to complain about her.” 

That glare was transferred to her, and Cara fell into parade rest without conscious thought, hands tucked behind her back and chin up. 

“General,” she said. “Sir.” 

Cody’s gunmental hair was thinning but that iconic jagged scar remained stark. His gaze was sharp even as his back stooped with age. The last anyone had ever really seen of him was on the Jakku sands as he accepted the Empire’s final surrender, grim and victorious even with half his face covered in blood. 

“Not a general anymore,” he said. “You can call me Cody.” 

“I don’t think I can, sir,” she said. 

Cody snorted. “Nice tattoos. Which company?” 

“The 6th Recon,” she answered. 

“You were one of the first down on Endor.” The glare softened to something like respect. “Not many of you made it back.” 

“No, sir. I carry a lot of names.” 

“Don’t we all,” he said. “Numa, did you bring me a Mandalorian?” 

“ _Cara_ brought you a Mandalorian,” Numa corrected. “Her friend needs help. Where did you put the guest mugs?” 

“I don’t have guest mugs. They’re not staying.” 

“Found ‘em!” Numa went up on her toes to fetch down two unused and dusty mugs from the top shelf. She rinsed them before pouring the caf. “Don’t listen to his lies about how he has no sugar and milk. Be nice.” The last was directed at Cody, and she pressed a kiss to his cheek before disappearing back the way they entered. 

“I’m still not Boil!” Cody shouted after her. “Don’t pull this shit with me!” 

Numa stuck her head back around the corner. “He wanted you looked after. This is me looking after you. Enjoy your play date.” And with that she was gone and they were left staring awkwardly at one another. 

Cody scowled. “Don’t listen to her. She doesn’t actually run my life.” 

Cara cleared her throat. “We can come back later, sir.” 

“Yes, you goddamn…will…” He trailed off. 

From behind Djarin’s leg, the kid leaned out, ears tilted low. 

Cody’s breathing was very loud. 

Moving slowly, as if not to startle him, Djarin lifted the kid. “He’s the reason we’re here.” 

“Thought I’d seen the last of you,” Cody said softly to himself. He sighed, looking old and worn in a way he hadn’t even during the war. “Sugar is on that shelf. Milk is in the refrigeration unit. We’ll talk outside.” 

* * *

Yavin IV was a jungle moon and there was only so much the colony could do keep that same jungle at bay. The dense vegetation edged right up into Cody’s back garden, and the kid was having the time of his life chasing after various reptiles in the grass that was nearly taller than him. 

“Huh,” Cody said when Djarin had finished relaying the entire shitstorm that brought them to Yavin. “The kid can do all that?” 

“Seen it for myself,” Cara said. They were on their third cup of caf. Cody had dispatched Djarin for refills seeing as he was the only one not drinking. 

The kid tripped and disappeared from sight. Djarin stood. 

“He’s fine,” Cody said. “The local fauna know to stay away.” 

Djarin hesitated, and Cara kicked the back of his knee until he reluctantly sat. The old man wasn’t going to let anything happen to the kid. 

“How old are you?” Cody asked. 

“Why?” Djarin said warily. 

“Hard to tell through that bucket, but I’m guessing you’re old enough to remember the War.” 

“It just ended,” said Djarin. 

“He means the Clone Wars,” she said. 

To the old guard that was always the War; she’d never heard them refer to it as anything else. Hell, they considered the civil war with the Empire a dust up, constantly measured against the past and found wanting. During the long nights on Hoth, she sat with the old troopers as they recited the names of the dead as outside the wind howled and wailed like a haunting. Waxer, Stone, Thorne, Rex, Keeli. Not gone, but marching on ahead. 

“Yes,” Djarin said. “I’m old enough.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” said Cody. “We carry ourselves in the same way.” 

Djarin twitched, startled. 

“The Jedi were around then,” Cody continued as if he hadn’t noticed Djarin’s tell. Cara knew better; nothing got past the old man. It was how they won, in the end. “They could do what he does, only with more skill.” 

“He’s a youngling,” Djarin snapped. 

Cody smiled, there and gone. “The skill will come in time, if you find a teacher.” 

Skywalker was the obvious suggestion, but she’d heard rumors of how he and the old man parted ways. No need to go digging into old wounds. Djarin was either smart enough or stubborn enough to keep his mouth shut. 

“I heard they were sorcerers,” Djarin said. 

Cody barked out a laugh. “That’s giving them too much credit.” The kid’s ears peeked out over the grass. He sobered. “But that’s not wrong.” 

Silence lapped in. They tracked the kid’s progress through the sway of the grass tops. A frog crested through. The kid squealed and gave chase, ears waggling in excitement. 

“The Jedi had a leader,” Cody said. “He was like your boy. Same ears.” 

She didn’t bother hiding her smile at the disgruntled tip of Djarin’s head. 

“So you know what he is,” Djarin said. “His people.” 

“No fucking idea.” Cody took an obnoxious drink of caf. “He was the only one of his species I met. Never found out what planet he came from. Not sure if even he remembered. He was old as sin.” 

“So you can’t help us.” Annoyance seeped from Djarin, and Cara kicked him in the ankle. Cody deserved respect. 

“I didn’t say that.” Cody’s expression hadn’t changed, but he was definitely smirking at them. “I’ll put the word out. There’s a few of us left who may know something.” 

Mollified, Djarin said, “Thank you.” 

The kid tumbled out of the grass, the frog triumphantly held in his hands. 

Djarin sighed. “Put that down.” 

“It’s not poisonous,” Cody said. “He’ll be fine.” 

“It’s not that. He just ate breakfast.” 

Cody’s eyebrow rose very slightly. 

The kid ignored Djarin and lifted the squirming frog to his mouth. Cara grimaced; the frog’s legs kicked the entire way down. 

The kid burped, and Cody laughed so hard that Cara leaned around Djarin to pound him on the back, worried he was choking. 

“That old bastard,” Cody said, swiping at his eyes. “I bet he was doing that the entire time. Boil would have loved this.” 

Djarin looked to her, alarmed. She shrugged. 

The kid toddled over to Cody. The two considered each other, and when the kid solemnly lifted his arms, Cody, equally solemn, settled him on his knee. 

“Numa will be back with lunch,” Cody said. “You can stay until then. I’ve had an issue with the frogs anyway.” 

“You’re not using my kid as pest control,” Djarin said. 

“Of course not.” Cody ran his thumb along the kid’s ear. “I’m providing a free meal.” 

“Say thank you,” Cara said. “It’s easier.” 

Djarin sighed. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” Cody said, and smiled when the kid floated his cup over. 

* * *

They had nothing to do then but wait. There were worse places to pass the time and a hell of lot worse company to pass it with. When they weren’t with Kes and Shara, she and Djarin took the kid down to the market where she discovered that Djarin had all the moral fortitude of wet flimsi. All the kid had to do was turn sad eyes on him and Djarin immediately caved and handed over good credits to get the little biter whatever he wanted: sweetmeats, plush animals, a wooden lute that made a high pitched whistle when played, a top that lit up when spun that the kid immediately stuck in his mouth. 

“You gotta stop giving him choking hazards,” she said as Djarin scrambled to take the toy away. 

“He swallows frogs whole,” Djarin said, successfully taking the top back and tucking it away on his person. The kid made a sad noise and for a moment she thought Djarin would fold again. “Those kick. He’s not gonna choke.” 

“Uh-huh,” she said, unconvinced, but it wasn’t worth the argument. “I’m meeting Numa. You all right to find your way back?” 

He inclined his head to indicate that was a dumb question. “Will you be back tonight?” 

She shrugged. “We have a lot of catching up to do.” Djarin considered her, and she could practically feel the question he wasn’t asking. “We’re old friends. Kes and Shara know that.” 

“And a beautiful woman.” 

“Don’t make me hit you in the head again.” 

“I’ll let them know not to expect you for dinner.” Amused, he secured the kid in the crook of his arm and turned back to the house. 

She glared at his retreating back out of principle and then went to find where Numa was waiting for her. Yavin had its share of cantinas and bars, little dives staffed by old rebels and smugglers, and Numa favored one that had a patio out back and a bar stocked with cheap liquor. 

“You’re late,” Numa said. 

A cup full of something alarmingly purple waited for her. “Had to ditch the Mando and the kid,” she said, sniffing the drink. “The hell is this?” 

“A cocktail from Glee Ansem. Drink up. You’re already behind.” 

Cara tossed the drink back. It was sweeter than she was expecting, and the face she made had Numa laughing. “You don’t like it?” 

“You know I don’t.” She nudged Numa in the ankle. “Get me a proper drink.” 

“There’s nothing proper about you.” Numa’s lekku curled enticingly as she signaled for another round. 

They were old soldiers and so they did what old soldiers did best, which was drink and talk about the past. 

“Heard Ash got married,” Numa said, later. She had kicked off her shoes and laid her feet across Cara’s lap. 

“No shit,” Cara said, idly rubbing a thumb over Numa’s ankle. There was a bump there from where Numa broke it on Endor. She had hobbled around in a makeshift splint for three days before she was able to get it set correctly. “Thought she said she’d die in an Imp prison camp before that happened.” 

“Apparently she found herself a nice Pantoran girl who’s preferable to a prison camp.” Numa slid lower in the chair, the glass dangling dangerously from the tips of her fingers. “What about you?” 

Cara’s cup was empty, but there was still one with a bit of the blue drink left. “I have yet to find a nice Pantoran girl.” 

Numa nudged her stomach. “Not what I meant and you know it.” 

She shrugged. “You know me. I like to keep my options open.” 

Numa snorted. “Trust me, I know.” 

They drank, and Cara let her fingers drift from Numa’s ankle up along her leg. “What about you? You got a nice girl or boy waiting at home?” 

“Not that it’s any of your business, but not currently.” Numa tilted her head back. Night had crept in at some point during their drinking. One good thing about small colonies like Yavin was that there was no light pollution to block out the stars. 

“Sorry for prying.” Cara pushed her hand up under the wide leg of Numa’s pants to palm her knee only for Numa to abruptly sit up and swing her feet down. “Something wrong?” 

“I think this might be the longest you’ve ever hung around,” Numa said, snagging the bottle the bartender, an old bomber pilot, had left them. 

She had visited a few days after the colony was first established, and then again when Shara mustered out, and then once more before heading further out on the Rim. She only allowed herself to linger a few nights before moving on. Safer for everyone that way. 

“We’re waiting on the old man,” she said. 

Numa drank straight from the bottle. “You’re traveling with the Mando now?” 

“I’m helping a friend out. I got a job waiting for me.” She snagged the bottle and took a drink. “What’s got into you?” 

She expected Numa to scowl, but what she got instead was a tired sigh. “What are we doing, Cara? And don’t say talking. It’s never just talking with you.” 

“We _are_ talking. We’re friends.” 

“Yeah, that’s the problem. I’m not just looking for a friend anymore.” 

“You want a nice Pantoran girl?” she said, more challenge to the words than she intended. 

“Something like that.” Numa’s smile was kind in a way that set Cara’s teeth on edge. “I like you, Cara. I always have. But the war’s over, and I don’t want to keep living like it isn’t.” 

She leaned back, stung. “And you think I am?” 

“I think you got your way of doing things, and that way is rarely the same as mine.” Numa studied her, and damned if it didn’t feel like being summoned to explain herself to Commander Boil for some hardheaded stunt she pulled. “And even if it was, everyone knows that Shara and Kes staked their claim. Hell, you encouraged them.” 

“Oh, fuck you,” she snapped, and she didn’t know if she was angry at herself for being found out or at Numa for putting it to words. 

Numa’s lekku curled in a way that meant Cara was being laughed at. “Not anymore. That’s the whole point.” 

She swallowed the anger and said, “So why even ask me here if you had no intention of following through?” 

“Stop sulking. It’s beneath you.” Numa ignored the rude gesture she made. “We’re still friends, like you said.” She plucked the bottle from Cara’s hand and finished it off, head tipped back so that Cara had no choice but to watch the motion of her throat as she swallowed. She set the empty bottle down like it was a winning sabacc hand. “And like I said, I like you.” 

Before she could ask how much Numa liked her, Numa was out of her chair and bracketing Cara in hers. Numa kissed her as her lekku hid them from view. It was a good kiss, but then it was always good with Numa, and at the end Numa gently bit her lower lip before drawing back. 

“Take care of yourself,” Numa said, collecting her boots. “And I hope you figure out what it is you want.” 

“Are you walking out on me?” 

“Sure looks that way.” Numa glanced back, grinning. “And it’s your turn to pick up the tab.” 

“Fuck off!” Cara shouted as Numa winked at her and then was gone. 

“You know,” the bartender said as he delivered the tab they ran up, “if you married her than she’d be responsible for half of this.” 

“Yeah,” she said, giving in with a laugh as she counted out the credits, “I know.” 

* * *

The house was dark when she made it back, moving carefully so as not to make noise. Light seeped from under Djarin’s door, but it was quiet and Cara let him be. 

“What’s that?” Kes mumbled as she let herself into his and Shara’s room. 

“Just me,” she said, already shedding her clothes. 

“How’s Numa?” he asked. 

“Still an asshole.” She pulled off her shirt and tossed it along with her pants into the corner where Kes would collect it in the morning. Her underwear she kept on. “We caught up.” 

“And drank.” 

“And drank,” she agreed. Kes nudged Shara until she rolled over, making room for Cara to slide in. 

Kes yawned. “Thought you’d be back later.” 

She tugged the light quilt up over all three of them, pausing to brush a kiss along Shara’s shoulder. “Turns out we’re getting old and can’t drink like we used to.” 

“Could have told you that,” Kes said. 

“You’ve always been old.” She tried to figure out which foot was his so she could kick him, but gave it up for a lost cause; they were all tangled together. 

“Fuck’s sake, shut up and go to sleep,” Shara mumbled. 

Kes grinned at her over Shara’s head. “Sorry,” he said. 

“We’ll be good,” she added, patting Shara’s hip. 

Kes’ hand found hers, and despite herself Cara listened to them breathe late into the night. 

* * *

It was two weeks before Cody commed just as they were preparing dinner. Or Kes and Djarin were preparing dinner. She and Shara were drinking as the kids colored. Cara only had to stop the kid from eating a crayon twice. 

She was about ready to prod Djarin into moving, when he said, “We shouldn’t keep him waiting. Her surprise must have shown because he added, “As you said, he deserves respect.” 

“He does,” she said, pleased he understood. 

“You want us to wait for you?” Shara asked. 

“No.” She tapped knuckles first to Shara’s arm and then Kes’ on her way past. “We’ll be awhile.” 

“I’ll keep it warm for you,” Kes said, and Djarin nodded in gratitude before gathering the kid and following Cara out of the house. 

It was warm and humid, which was typical for Yavin. She twisted the hair away from her face as they walked along. It wouldn’t do to keep the old man waiting, but that didn’t mean they had to rush. Couldn’t anyway, not with Djarin in that armor. She was waiting for him to collapse from heatstroke. 

The sun was starting to set when Djarin said, “There are worse places than here.” 

She slid him a long look, but for once she couldn’t get a read on him. “Is that you way of hinting you want to settle here? I’m sure Kes and Shara can set you up.” 

“Not me.” 

Cara contemplated hitting him very hard in the head. “You don’t know shit about me, Mando.” 

“That’s not true. I know you like beautiful women, and one in particular.” 

“Go fuck yourself,” she said, and shoved Cody’s gate open. 

She rapped on the door, pushing it open when she got no answer. They must have been granted access as the turret didn’t activate. “Sir?” she said, stepping inside. “General?” 

“Out back,” Cody called, and they obediently headed outside where Cody was surveying the garden. “It’s mating season and the noisy bastards keep coming up to the house. Has he eaten?” 

“Stop using him as free labor,” Djarin said, but the kid was already trying to squirm free, and Djarin set him down with an aggrieved sigh. 

“He wants to help,” Cody said as the kid waddled over. “See that?” He pointed to where a couple frogs had breached the grass. “Take care of it.” 

The kid’s head tipped to the side, ears waggling before taking off, his short legs working hard to cover the distance. 

“He likes it,” Cody added with something suspiciously close to fondness. 

Djarin didn’t protest even though Cara could tell he wanted to. Seeing as how the kid was having the time of his life, she nudged him towards the chairs someone, most likely Numa, had set out. 

“You got something for us?” she asked, stretching her legs out. “Or did you call us just to needle him?” 

“It can be both,” Cody said, pulling a data crystal from his pocket. He idly tossed it in the air a few times. “I put the call out to some brothers. See if they knew anything. Gree always had an anthropological bent to him.” 

“Does he know anything?” Djarin asked. 

“Gree went to Mirial,” Cody continued, and Cara made herself comfortable to wait him out. There was no pushing the old man; even the emperor had known that. “The capital had one of the oldest libraries in the Republic.” 

“Had?” Djarin said. 

Cody’s mouth twisted. “The Imps burned it down. Most of the collection was lost, but some of the books survived. Apparently one had an interesting footnote that alluded to the Kel Dor sages. So I went to Wolffe.” 

“Wait,” Cara said. “Commander Wolffe? Last I heard he was still listed as missing in action when his ship went down over Jakku. Didn’t think anyone survived that crash.” 

“Not many did, but Wolffe’s always been too stubborn to die.” Cody stretched his legs out in a mirror image of her, absently rubbing his left knee. The old guard were never meant to grow old, and the humidity couldn’t be doing his joints any favors. “He’s gone to ground on Kel Dor. They like him for some fucking reason. He’s on good terms with the sages. They have a long institutional memory. Even managed to survive the purge.” 

He went quiet, gaze gone distant. Through his thinning hair, Cara could just make out the scar on his skull. It was small and neat and made ever the more damning for it. 

“Do they know anything?” Djarin asked, an odd gentleness to the words. 

Cody blinked, his gaze refocusing on them. “Only that your son seems to be important. But Wolffe reminded me Thire is still kicking.” 

Djarin sighed. “And who is Thire?” 

“He served with the old bastard back in the day. Was even there on Kashyyyk when—” The kid squealed in excitement when he pounced on a frog only for it to wriggle away. Cody cleared his throat. “He and the general would talk, sometimes. Thire was good at getting people to open up.” 

Cody paused, and Cara figured it was less for dramatic tension and more out of respect for the memory. They were all old soldiers mourning the past. 

“He doesn’t know what your boy is,” Cody said, once he swam back to shore, “but he can give you a starting point.” He rolled the crystal over his knuckles, right to left and then back again. “There’s been a few reports of settlements on the edge of wild space. Not a lot of information about settlers, but there’s been some mentions about the size of their ears in the descriptions. It’s not much, I know, but it might be a place to start your search.” 

“It’s more than what I have,” Djarin said, catching the crystal when Cody tossed it to him. 

The kid, frustrated by a frog’s evasion, extended a hand and _pulled_ the frog to him. It was effective, but probably would have worked better if the frog, frantically trying to escape, hadn’t kicked the kid in the face. He fell backwards, blinking in confusion as he frog fled, and let out a petulant whine. 

“You’ll get better at that,” Cody said to him, and then to Djarin, “The Imps wanted him?” 

“Yes,” Djarin answered. “Moff Gideon in particular.” 

“Thought he was dead, sir,” she said. “Tried and convicted for war crimes.” 

“I thought so, too.” Cody was more resigned than bitter. “He must have cut a deal. None of the new senators tell me shit, in case you were wondering.” 

She raised her eyebrows. “Not even Organa?” 

Cody snorted. “My brothers and me, we’re good for fighting wars. Hell, we even win them on occasion, but that’s the only use anyone’s had for us.” 

“That’s not true,” she said. 

“You trying to explain my own life to me, trooper?” 

“No,” Djarin said quickly, nudging her ankle. 

Cara nudged him back, harder. “I was going to say, sir, that you and your brothers are also really good at drinking.” 

Cody stared her down for one long moment before laughing. “You’re not wrong. Mando, there’s whisky on the top shelf. Get it, would you.” 

“Keep an eye on him,” Djarin said, and went to do as Cody ordered. 

When he was out of earshot, Cody said, “Might be safer if he stuck around. We can keep an eye on the kid. Make sure no one else makes a grab for him.” 

“Sounds like you’re going soft, sir,” she said, grinning when Cody scowled. 

“Just a suggestion.” He watched as the kid, tired of chasing frogs, pulled up small fistfuls of grass. “It’s not a bad place to settle.” 

“It’s not,” she agreed, “but he won’t stay.” 

“He should know he has the option, if he changes his mind.” 

She bit back a scowl of her own. “You been talking to Numa, sir?” 

“What does that have to with anything?” 

“It just seems we’re not really talking about the Mando anymore.” 

“Now who’s going soft?” Cody said. “Hey, kid, come here.” 

The kid made his slow way over as Djarin returned, bottle in one hand and three glasses and a straw in the other. “It works,” he said at her look, pouring as Cody settled the kid on his lap. 

“To seeing another day,” Cody said, tipping his glass in their direction. 

They drank to that. Well, she and Cody drank. Djarin sipped daintily from the straw. When they finished, Djarin poured another round, which they drank slower, savoring as it was damn good whiskey. 

“Thank you,” Djarin said to Cody. 

General Cody’s sabacc face was legendary, and he employed it now, impassive and implacable. “Not sure how much good that intel is going to do you. Whoever your son’s people are, I don’t think they want to be found.” 

“Maybe,” Djarin said, shrugging. “But you didn’t have to do all this.” 

“No,” Cody said softly, touching his thumb to the tip of the kid’s ear, “I did.” 

Cody finished his drink, but Cara took the bottle from Djarin before he could refill Cody’s glass. “Might want to slow down, sir.” 

Cody’s façade cracked enough for an irritated glare to slip through. “You were the one who said I was good a drinking.” 

“And you are.” She set the bottle out of reach. “But you’re also the one who’s going to have to deal with Numa hungover.” 

He snorted, and placed one hand on the kid’s back when he shifted to find a more comfortable position. “Watch the feet.” 

The kid tucked himself up against Cody’s chest, eyes drooping closed as Cody rubbed fingers behind his ears. Djarin watched the display silently, and Cara wondered if he had been the same as a child, desperate for a place to belong. 

“Mando,” Cody said. 

“Djarin,” he corrected. 

Cody’s head tipped in acknowledgment. “Djarin, do you follow the old traditions?” 

Now it was Djarin’s turn to cock his head to the side. “I do.” 

“You carry any names?” 

Djarin nodded, once. 

“So does Dune,” Cody said. “And so do I.” 

When Cody offered no more, Cara said, “May we join you in remembrance?” 

“I’d like that,” Cody said. 

And so they sat with Cody as the stars came out, each taking their turn to speak the names of the dead. Not gone, of course, but marching on ahead. 

* * *

The house was empty but the lights were on. They stopped in the kitchen to eat the meal Kes had left for them, still warm from the oven, and then made their out back where Shara and Kes had settled on the bench under the tree. Poe, mouth open as he slept, was sprawled over their laps. Definitely Kes’ son. 

“How was the old man?” Shara asked, absently stroking Poe’s hair. 

“Fine,” Cara answered. “Was in a bit of a strange mood at the end.” 

“Melancholic?” Kes suggested. 

“I think so.” 

Kes nodded, unsurprised. “He’s been like that for awhile now. Numa thinks he might pull up roots and go find his brothers.” 

Numa was probably right. Under all that gruff bluster Cody seemed…not lost, exactly. Adrift, maybe. He was one of the few troopers left. That’d make anyone lonely. 

“Did he have anything for you?” Shara asked. 

“Yes,” Djarin said. The kid yawned and rubbed his face into Djarin’s shoulder, over tired. “It’s a place to start. We’ll be leaving once my ship is refueled and our supplies replenished.” 

“There’s no rush,” Shara said, and there was no reason for Cara’s stomach to twist and drop. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need.” 

“Appreciate it.” The kid whined and pressed his face more firmly into Djarin’s shoulder. 

“Someone needs to go to bed,” Shara said, amused. Poe shifted in her lap. “Two someones.” 

“No, you stay put,” Cara said before Shara or Kes could move. “I got him.” She carefully lifted Poe, her back briefly protesting as she straightened. Poe grumbled, eyes slitting open. “Just me, kid. Time for bed.” 

Poe sighed and tucked his face into the curve of her neck as he slid back towards sleep. It was easy enough to carry him; she did the same back when he was even younger, letting Kes and Shara grab a night of uninterrupted sleep. Poe was a fussy toddler who just wanted to be held, and she used to place him in a sling across her chest, talking nonsense to him as she cleaned her blasters. Poe still found the smell of blaster oil to be soothing. 

He was bigger now, and soon he would be too heavy to carry at all. Years passed so much more quickly now than they ever did during the war. 

In the bedroom, she and Djarin wrangled the kids into pajamas and put them to bed. Poe immediately latched onto the kid, cuddling him close. It was cute enough to make her teeth ache. 

“You almost forget how terrible they can be when awake,” she said quietly, brushing a bit of hair from Poe’s forehead. 

“Almost,” Djarin agreed. 

She hit the lights on the way out. “You ever thought you’d be a parent?” 

“No,” he said, firm if unconvincing. 

She didn’t call him on it, instead following him to the guest room. “I never wanted it for myself.” 

“You have Poe.” 

“ _Shara and Kes_ have Poe. I’m just the woman who’s going to teach him out to drink and talk to girls and boys. That’s what I’m good for.” 

He returned the courtesy of not calling her on the lie. “You’ll be good at that.” 

“Thanks.” She leaned against the wall. “You should stay a little longer. Shara’s right. There’s no rush. Let Poe and the kid say goodbye.” 

“Maybe,” he said. “Do you need transport back to Nevarro?” 

She hesitated before shaking her head. “I’ll figure something out.” 

“The offer is open.” 

She knocked knuckles against his shoulder. “Get some sleep.” When he was about to close the door, she said, “Before I forget, the old man mentioned you got a place here, if you want it.” 

“Sure he wasn’t talking about you?” he said, amused. 

“Piss off. You’re not that funny.” 

“I really am,” he said, and shut the door in her face. 

“Asshole,” she muttered. 

She went to the kitchen to clean the mess she and Djarin made, more as an excuse to keep from going back outside than any real desire to be helpful. If she went to Kes and Shara, they would take her to their bed, and then in the morning they’d make room for her at the table where they’d eat breakfast together like an actual goddamn family. 

It would be…nice if they kept her, and not for the first time she wondered what the fuck was wrong with her that she couldn’t let them be enough to make her happy. 

“ _Shit,”_ she said, and scraped the leftovers into the compactor. 

“Hey,” Kes said, “don’t go wasting good food. It’s like you don’t even appreciate we no longer live on field rations.” 

“Fuck off,” she said, tired but unsurprised it was Kes who found her. With Alderaan gone, he was the only one left who knew her best, and she loved him long before she even knew he had a wife she’d grow to love, too. 

“Oh, I remember this mood.” He pushed in close, bumping their shoulders together. “You going to tell me what’s wrong or do I get to guess?” 

She scowled. “Nothing’s wrong.” 

“Did you know you and Poe sulk in the exact same way?” He dodged the elbow she tried to drive into his ribs. “You can lie to Numa and even the old man, but you can’t lie to me.” 

She never could, and she wished she could work up some anger over that, but it was Kes, who had sat with her when she finally let herself grieve, and it was Kes who found a quiet corner and placed a hand on the back of her neck as she wept for Alderaan for the first and only time. And it was Kes who saw the way she looked at Shara, and said, “Yeah, she’s something else,” and then found a way to make it work. 

And it was Kes who she would put roots down for, if only he’d ask. 

“You know I got a job waiting for me,” she said. “I’m helping rebuild the bounty hunter guild.” 

“That’s good work for you. It’ll help keep you from getting bored and starting bar brawls for fun.” 

“Hey, I know how much you love a good brawl.” 

“I may have loved that once,” Kes said, haughty, “but I’m a father now. I have to set a good example for the kid.” 

She snorted. “Shara’s already teaching him to fly, and he’s six. Pretty sure you missed your chance.” 

“Don’t remind me. I’m dreading the day he takes that thing on a joyride.” 

“You’re a good father,” she said. “Poe’s going to turn out fine.” 

“Thanks,” he said, and they fell into a familiar silence. It was always easy to just let herself be with Kes. No one else, not even Shara, had ever made her feel that way. 

“You know I can’t stay,” she finally said. 

“I know.” He leaned further into her, letting her take more of his weight. “Is someone making you think you should?” 

“Numa, and the old man.” 

Kes rolled his eyes. “That figures. They think they know what’s best for everyone.” 

“Maybe they do.” 

“Look at me, Cara.” He waited until she turned, their faces so close together their noses brushed and Kes briefly went cross-eyed before he leaned back. “Me and Shara, we’ve always known who you are and how this would work the first time we picked you up.” 

“ _I_ picked _you_ up.” 

“It’s cute you think that.” He didn’t avoid her elbow that time, and winced when she made contact with his ribs. “Have we ever done anything to make you think we’re unhappy with the state of our relationship?” 

“No,” she admitted. 

“Good, because we love you and we are happy. You just have to learn to recognize when Numa and the old man are talking shit.” 

Cara bit back a smile. “I’d pay good credits to see you tell the old man that.” 

“Do I look stupid? I want to be around to see my son grow up.” He looked pleased when she laughed. “We good, Dune?” 

“Yeah,” she said, and touched their foreheads together, “we’re good, Dameron.” 

Maybe Numa was right and she had let Kes and Shara stake their claim, but it was the same as her stripes, an honor she bled and nearly died for, an indelible mark she would carry to her dying day. 

“Good,” Kes said, steering her towards the bedroom, “because Shara definitely wants another orgasm or two before you leave, and you know how she gets when we take too long.” 

“About that,” she said, allowing herself to be pushed along. “You think she’d mind giving me a ride back to Nevarro?” 

“You thinking of sticking around?” 

“For a little while. I’ve missed Poe.” 

“She’ll be happy to fly you back,” he said, fond, and opened the door to where Shara had arranged herself on the bed for maximum impact. 

“You set her straight?” Shara asked. 

“Yeah,” Kes said, his hand warm on the back of Cara’s neck, “I talked her down.” 

“I should have left you in that jungle,” Cara said. 

“Probably,” he agreed cheerfully, “but it’s too late now.” 

“You’re stuck with us,” said Shara. “So take your pants off and come sit on my face.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Cara said, and did as she was told. 

* * *

The day Djarin meant to leave, Cara woke just after dawn. Giving up on going back to sleep, she carefully extricated herself out of the possessive tangle of limbs that was Shara and Kes. She grabbed whatever clothes were closest—her pants, Kes’ shirt, Shara’s jacket—and went in search of Djarin, pausing long enough to check on the kids. They were sprawled on their backs with their mouths open, still asleep. She continued on, past the empty guest room, living area, and kitchen until she finally found him on the bench under the tree. 

“Thought you weren’t leaving until this afternoon,” she said, feet shoved into Kes’ boots in deference to the morning chill. 

“I am,” Djarin said. There was a pot of caf next to him. “I like mornings. They’re quiet.” 

The last part was pointed, and Cara got the feeling they may have forgotten to turn on the sound dampeners last night. Lucky for them the kids could sleep through an artillery barrage. 

“Could be worse,” she said, accepting the cup he passed her. She sniffed it suspiciously, but it seemed Djarin remembered the sugar. Good man. “Just wait until the kid starts talking.” 

She’d put good money on Djarin grimacing under that bucket, but he said, “You still staying?” 

“Yeah. I’ve missed them.” She let the truth of it sit between them; she never admitted that to anyone before. “You’ll be missed, too.” 

Djarin twitched in surprise, as if he never considered that possibility. “You, too,” he said. “The kid likes you.” 

“He should. Of the two of us I’m the fun one.” She drank her caf, ignoring the incredulous noise he made. “You’re doing a good job raising him.” When she received no response, she said, “What will you do if you find his people?” 

For a moment she thought he would ignore the question entirely, but he sighed very quietly and said, “I’ll return him to them.” 

“It’ll break his heart. Break yours, too.” 

“All that matters is that he’s safe and taken care of,” Djarin said. “This is the way.” 

“So I’ve heard.” She finished her caf and held her cup out for refill. 

He poured. “I haven’t thanked you for your help.” 

There was no more sugar, and Cara made a face even as she took another sip. “The old man did the heavy lifting. I just gave him a nudge.” 

“Thank you,” he said pointedly because he was an asshole, which was why Cara liked him so much. 

She rolled her eyes and stood. “Come on. We can get breakfast going before they wake up. Least we can do considering they’ve been putting us up this long.” She held out her hand. “Think you can manage chopping vegetables?” 

“I think I can handle it,” he said dryly. He took her offered hand and allowed her to pull him to his feet. “Can you cook anything more complicated than eggs?” 

“Let’s find out,” she said, and towed him back to the house. 

* * *

In the end, Cara was the only one to take him back to port. Kes and Shara had said their goodbyes, and the kids had finished shedding their tears when Cara pulled the speeder around to the front of the house. She began this journey with them, and it was fitting she was the one to end it. 

Only it turned out _The Razor Crest_ wasn’t the only thing waiting for them. Cody was there, leaning against a bike she really hoped he hadn’t ridden or Numa, accomplishing what the emperor never could, would end him. 

“Sir,” she said, plucking the kid out of his safety seat. “What are you doing here?” 

“Got something for the kid,” Cody said, and from the back of the bike pulled out a small glass case containing a single frog. The kid’s ears waggled. “Figured he could use a snack. It’s a long trip.” 

The kid was struggling, and since Cara wasn’t his parent, she gave up and set him down so that he could run to Cody as fast his small legs would allow. 

“You’re an asshole,” Djarin said. 

“Took you long enough to figure out,” Cody said, and tossed a comm to him. “I put the word out about you and your boy. That’s programmed with my brothers’ frequencies in case you ever need to lie low.” 

“Appreciate it,” Djarin said. He tucked the comm into the same pouch that held the one Cara gave him. 

Slowly and with great effort, Cody crouched down. “Here you go. Easy.” He handed the case to the kid, who just about toppled over under its weight. Cody nudged him upright. 

“Let him do it,” she said when Djarin made to go help. “He can handle it.” 

The kid could, wobbling at first and then moving with greater confidence as he crossed to the ship ramp. 

“Watch out for him,” Cody said, standing with a wince. 

“This is the way,” Djarin said. 

Cody must have understood the weight of those words because he said, solemn, “This is the way.” 

And then Djarin turned to her, and Cara cleared her throat. “You got everything?” 

“It was loaded this morning,” he said, referring to the supplies and the crate of clothes Kes and Shara had sent along. “The offer of a lift is still open.” 

“Shara will kill me if I let anyone else fly me back.” She held out her hand. “Watch your back. I’m not always going to be around to do it for you.” 

“You going soft on me?” 

“Piss off,” she said as, hands clasped, they embraced. “I’m not raising the kid if you get sloppy.” 

“No, Kes will raise my kid,” he said. “You can teach him to talk to beautiful girls.” 

She laughed, drawing back but keeping hold of his hand. “Try to stay out of trouble.” 

“Could say the same to you.” 

“I like a little trouble.” 

“I’ve noticed.” Djarin squeezed her hand once before finally letting go. “I’ll see you around, Dune.” 

“May the force be with you,” she said, and earned one last amused head tilt for the effort. 

Djarin followed his son up the ramp and into _The Razor Quest,_ the bay door closing after them.Cody joined her, and together they watched the ship lift off and break atmo. __

“You didn’t have to do any of that, sir,” she said, watching as the thruster burn faded. 

“Neither did you,” Cody said. 

It was a lie, but one they were both well aware of. 

“You should come to dinner,” she said. “Kes always makes too much.” 

“Only if I can drive.” 

“With all due respect, sir,” she said, opening the speeder door, “not a chance in hell.” 

“Boil always complained what an insubordinate pain in the ass you were.” 

She waited patiently as Cody climbed into the passenger seat. “You know he said the same thing about you, right?.” 

“He was such an asshole,” Cody said, gruff but fond. 

“Yeah,” she said, “aren’t we all.” 

Cody smiled, and Cara gunned the engine and turned them towards home. 

**Author's Note:**

> Now you may be asking, "Dharma, are you ever going to write anything that is set during the OT where you don't have Cody as the general of the rebel alliance?" And the answer is no, no I will not how dare you.
> 
> Also I will never write a fic that doesn't have one tender forehead touch to it. Never.
> 
> As always I'm on [tumblr](https://dharmaavocado.tumblr.com/) if you want to drop on by.


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